Chapter 40
“Where is she, Gage?”
“Still in Aurora. Been there since last night.” I can hear his keys clacking on his keyboard. He is vigilant. A hawk in the sky, keeping watch over her. Now that we have her number, he was able to track her cell phone. I won’t let her disappear this time. She’s running, and I understand why.
The way she looked at me when Nat made her announcement. It was like she was feeling safe, re-building brick by brick with me, and then a fucking wrecking ball came in and destroyed all her trust. It hurt almost as much as her leaving the first time. But this time, she can’t hide from us.
I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for her, especially now that I know she can’t have any more children. She is aware that I have always wanted a big family, and she is probably thinking that Nat can give me that. And she isn’t wrong. But I don’t want Nat. I want her.
I want my son.
I want my daughter.
I want my phoenix.
She just has to realize that I can and will have them all. It’s not going to be easy. This clusterfuck of a situation is exactly that—a painful mess—but I lost Leo once, and I cannot do it again. So as much as she wants to make this decision for me by removing herself, I won’t let her.
I’m on shift now, so I can’t reach out as much as I want to, but I have been sending text after text, reminding her that I am still here.
I go to a storage closet and dial Ski. I know he will keep me posted on her, even if she won’t reply.
“Hey, Ev. She’s still here.” I can hear the change in his voice at having Leo in his presence. I can hear it because I know exactly what it feels like. She lifts and relieves our burdens and worries. Just having her close is life changing.
“I know. I’m tracking her.”
He gives a soft chuckle at this. “I figured as much. Just thought I would tell you anyway.”
“How bad is it, Ski? Don’t sugarcoat it. She won't reply to my texts or calls.”
“You haven’t lost her yet, boy. But you two have some serious talking to do.”
“I’m aware. I just have to get her to talk to me first.” I run my hand down my face. Stubborn woman.
“She went to her mom, Ev. It may be a little bit before she can face you. She had some personal healing she needed to do before she could heal the wounds that you and Natasha have caused.”
“How is she, after that?”
Ski told me when her mom died, cirrhosis of the liver, which I’m not surprised, considering what I knew about Celleste.
I contemplated telling Leo, but I decided that if she wanted to know, she would either ask or go find out herself.
I knew it was something she had to seek out on her own and I am glad that she decided to do so.
That is a relationship that was never going to mend. The damage was too great. But I hope that Leo can let her go, realize that all that Celleste did was a reflection of herself, not Leo.
“She is better. A lot better. She came back different. Stronger. Give her a few days, and she will come back to you.”
“I trust you, old man. Let me know if you guys need anything. I’ll be there.”
“You got it.”
“And tell Rune I love him and miss him.”
Ski chuckles, “I will. He is a bright young man, Everett. And damn, he looks just like you. You should be proud.”
“I am.” Is all I can reply without breaking down.
When Ski hangs up, I make my way back to the ER and continue seeing case after case. It’s busy tonight. Both a blessing and a curse.
Around one in the morning, Nat calls.
My heart immediately starts hammering in my chest. Why is she calling so early in the morning? Something is wrong. It has to be.
“Nat? What's going on?”
“Everett. Everett, God, it hurts so bad. Something is wrong. I need you.” Her voice is shaking. Nat is one of the strongest women I know. She can be vicious, but hate breeds hate. She knows no different. But right now, she’s scared. Right now, she’s my Nat again.
Despite the persona she gives to the outer world, Nat is vulnerable. More so than anyone I have ever met. Her family is worse than mine when it comes to the expectations they hold her to, and her insecurities are many.
“Where are you? I’m on my way.”
She gives me her address, and thank fuck, I only had two hours left of my shift. The other doctors on shift are able to cover.
I pull up to the expensive and elaborate hotel she is staying in and make my way to the thirteenth floor. I pound on her door, and she opens it, tears running down her slim face. She’s clutching her abdomen.
But that’s not what makes my heart stop beating.
It’s the blood.
So much blood.
She has a towel between her legs. A white towel. With red coating most of it.
“Everett. Help me. Please.”
I scoop her up bridal style and carry her from the room, down to my truck, and to the closest hospital. I don’t need an ultrasound to know. Our baby girl is gone.
“Do you think she’ll be okay? She’s okay, right, Everett?”
Part of my job as a physician is breaking the most horrendous and heartbreaking news to families.
But I'm not a physician right now. I’m a man who’s lost his daughter, who’s carrying the weight of a grieving woman, a grieving mother who will not get the chance to experience motherhood with this baby girl.
She grabs my hand in hers as another cramp comes and cries out, “Everett, please make it stop! It hurts too much…” The way her voice breaks on that last breath, I know she means it more than physically.
We’re rushed back quickly to a room, the amount of blood covering Nat’s legs and the white towel concerning the triage nurses. Nat’s blood is drawn, an IV started, and Morphine administered for her pain. Shortly after, as Nat is finally resting in the stretcher, an OB comes in with an ultrasound.
I sit next to her, holding her hand. Right now, she’s not my ex. Not my enemy. She’s my friend. My Nat. And she’s hurting more than any woman should ever have to.
The OB places the cold jelly and ultrasound probe to her flat stomach and confirms that there’s no heartbeat.
Nat’s sobs fill the room.
“I am very sorry for your loss,” the OB gently says in the voice I have donned many times when delivering the same words to broken parents.
My mind is numb. I haven’t started processing this as a father. I’m still processing as a doctor. Going over in my head what the next steps are going to be. What recovery will look like for Nat.
But she’s crying.
She cries for the loss of our baby.
She cries for the loss of her future.
She cries for the loss of her chance to show her love.
She cries for the loss of never getting to feel unconditional love.
She cries for the loss of our baby girl’s life coming to a sudden halt.
She cries for the loss of never feeling her kicks.
She cries for the loss of being a mother.
Because right now to her, that's what this feels like. Permanent. Right now, she doesn’t see that although this baby was called home early, she can still be a mother. She is a mother. She can still love another baby.
Because this baby, our baby, is what she needs right now, and I can’t give that to her. I will never be able to give that to her. Something breaks in Nat at this moment. I wish I could tell her that breaking is not always a bad thing. Breaking is the chance to become someone new.
“Everett. Can we name her?” She is still groggy from the drugs, but I see her there. The scared little girl who was once my best friend. She has been gone for a while, but she’s here now.
The procedures are done.
The staff is gone.
The early morning is streaming through the window of her hospital room.
They kept her through the night to monitor her blood counts. She received one unit of blood, and they’ll redraw her counts in a few hours. And I haven’t left her side. I wouldn’t.
“Yeah, Nat. I think she needs a name.”
“I’d like to call her Aurora. It’s where we started…and where we ended, isn’t it?” Her soft voice is a whisper.
Where we ended.
“Yeah, Nat. It is.”
“Everett?”
I don’t answer. I just let our eyes meet.
“Our baby… She wasn’t going to change your mind, was she? You still would have chosen Leo.”
Even though it’s a question, she doesn’t ask it. She states it like a fact.
“Yeah, Nat.” I pause for a moment, needing to collect myself.
“But that doesn't mean I wouldn’t have chosen you and Aurora. There is no competition, Nat. There never was. You and Leo are both incredibly important to me, in different ways. I could love you both. You are one of my best friends, Nat. You have been since we were in diapers. I never would have left you. But I’ll never leave Leo either. She’s my soulmate.”
Nat lets out a sigh and then places her hand to my cheek.
“Then you need to fix things with her. I’m sorry that I caused discontent in your relationship.
Not just now, but back then as well. I love you, Everett.
I always will, but you’re right. I love you differently than Leo does.
I think I’ve been pushed so long to love you and only you that I don’t know any different. ”
This is the Nat I love. The kind one, the selfless one. The one who was lost for a while—the one that she only gives me.
“There’s my Nat. I was worried you’d forgotten about her.” I grin at her.
“I did. But honestly, it's so exhausting being the person they want me to be. I’m tired, Everett.”
“What are you going to do, then?”
She takes a deep breath then shrugs. “I think I need to speak with my father. He isn’t going to be happy. But then…Boston is nice. Maybe I’ll start fresh here.”
“Will he let you?”
She doesn't answer. Just begins fixing her hair and smoothing out the blanket on her lap. "Could you get me some more ice chips, please?"
"Nat."
"Leave it, Everett. I'll handle it." Her cold, unaffected mask slides back into place.